


Healing

by jynx



Series: SpringFRE [11]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Everyone else lived, Fíli as King, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Thorin Died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 13:30:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6659977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynx/pseuds/jynx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kili slept curled on his good side, crammed into the corner of his cot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing

**Author's Note:**

> SpringFRE prompt: Healing
> 
> I know, I'm so original in my title, right????

Kili slept curled on his good side, crammed into the corner of his cot. He hurt. His bad side was a broken arm and several cracked ribs, along with a few nasty gashes along his leg. His hand would never be the same, having been smashed by an orc’s mace, and that was the good hand. The one he held curled against his cheek, bandaged as it was.

He watched Fili from his cot, facing his brother.

The other was still asleep; had been asleep since the battle ended. Fili had taken a horrible hit to the head as he defended their uncle, one that felled him. One of Dain’s men had grabbed Fili and dragged him to safety. Others bandaged him and did what they could. It was up to Fili to wake now.

Not that his head was the only injury. He’d been near trampled by a Warg during the battle that his hip had been broken in two places and his right leg crushed. There was little hope to save the leg.

Like there was little hope to save Kili’s hand.

They would manage, though, together. So long as Fili woke up.

Kili shifted in his cot, watching Fili’s chest rise and fall steadily. He matched his breathing to that of Fili’s and it was because of this that he noticed the slight hitch and then the deeper breath.

He sat up and slid off his cot torturously slow, aching the whole time, as he hobbled over to his brother. Fili was groaning now, eyes fluttering open, and Kili smiled at him.

“Wakey, wakey,” he murmured. “Time’s a wasting."

Fili’s eyes slid half closed and his mouth ticked up into a tiny smile. “Water,” he croaked.

Kili looked down at himself, at his maimed body, and then at the water pitcher. He nodded at Fili and walked slowly to it, scooping it off the table and cradling it in the crook of his bad arm, pouring some into a cup. He only missed it a few times from the shaking, but he filled the cup. Now to get it to Fili without spilling any...

“Oy!” Dori said, walking into the tent. “You are not to be up!"

“Fili woke up,” Kili said, defensively. “He wanted water."

Dori’s shocked intake of breath made Kili feel better. Now the other dwarf could do the things Kili could not. Dori indeed took over, propping Fili up with a few more pillows—careful of his injured hip and leg—and helping him drink water. Kili sat on the corner of his own cot.

The word spread that the heir—no, the king—was awake and alive. Dwarves stopped by, paying respects to Fili as his brother fought to stay awake, and bestowing prizes of war unto him. Beads from beards of the fallen, weapons from the orcs and goblins and elves, tiny gifts to show their worthiness and allegiance.

Fili was all they had now that Thorin was dead.

Finally Dori chased them out and Dwalin stationed himself by the flap of their tent to prevent anyone from sneaking in.

Kili eyed them in consideration before making his unsteady way to Fili.

“My king,” he murmured.

Fili rolled his eyes. “Brat,” he said, voice raspy still.

“We’re alive,” Kili said. “We survived."

Fili nodded, eyes sliding closed. “Time to heal."

“Can we heal?” Kili asked, looking down at his mangled hand. He tried not to look at Fili’s leg.

“We can always heal,” Fili said. “We’re alive, aren’t we? Life goes on, we go on. We will heal."

Kili nodded. “Because Mahal wills it."

“Bless Mahal,” Fili murmured in response. “We’ll heal, we’l build, we’ll rule. It’s over. Smaug is dead, Erebor is ours. Our people can come home. We can all heal."

Kili, having thought only about the physicality of their injuries, paused. There had been a wound, a deep wound, in their people from having been chased out by Smaug. He hadn’t known Erebor or Smaugs attack personally so he had never thought about the burden and sadness their people carried as something that needed healing. Fili, as the king he was raised to be, thought first of his people and last of himself.

Kili sat on Fili’s cot and made himself comfortable. Their people could come home and heal, yes, but Kili wanted them to heal. He wanted them, selfishly, to be all right.

“How bad are you hurt?” Fili asked, eyes closed.

Kili reached out and held Fili’s hand with his good hand. “I’ll heal,” he said, sounding more optimistic than he felt. “We both will."

“Liar,” Fili said, voice weak. “It’s bad?"

Kili paused, considering. “I might lose my hand. You might lose your leg. I’ll never hold a bow again. I may never fight again. You may never stand on two feet again."

“May and might,” Fili said. He squeezed Kili’s hand. “We’ll be fine. No matter what happens. You know why?"

Kili brought their linked hands to his lips and kissed Fili’s fingers. “Why?"

“Because we have each other,” Fili said. He yawned.

“Sleep,” Kili admonished gently. “I’ll be here when you wake up."

Fili hummed softly and Kili watched as his chest slowed and steadied. Kili once again matched his brother’s breathing and closed his eyes. It was time to heal.


End file.
